Something Odd
by frogandrabbitsox
Summary: Matthew Williams is cursed. The curse of misfortune causes widespread destruction, based on his emotions, which leads to a search for the cure. He is told that another boy, his age, could help him with his curse, as his gift was Matthew's opposite, luckiness. Are the two, a gifted and a cursed pair, ever going to be compatible? Human AU. Might not update. By Cassie.
1. The Cruel Beginning

I was buying groceries when my house caught on fire. No one told me anything happened. I never found out until I exited the half-empty store that stood a mere block away from my house.

I had expected to feel the cool air of a summer evening brush against my bare arms, laden with the load of groceries, until, well, I realized that the air wasn't cold.

I looked up from the mountain I held. No, more liked looked to the side.

A bright ball of fire lit up the other side of the street, spewing a bright matter from the open windows. A thick black smoke escaped the confinement of the little house. The breeze blew the pungent stench and the eye-watering properties toward me.

There were people as well, making a commotion, as people do when a house is on fire. Two firetrucks were parked at the curb, spewing forth water from the hoses the firefighters held aloft. It was a desperate ploy, and, of course, it would never work. The neighbors stood outside, the well-meaning family of six, and looked on with sympathy. The father was reaching for his phone.

It wasn't until I picked up the phone that I realized that the house was mine.

"Hello, Matt. Where are you?"

"Hello sir. I'm actually, um, at the other side of the street."

"Then, you know that the house is yours, right? I am terribly sorry for your loss. If there is any way I could help-"

"No, no, Mr. Canter, it's fine. But thanks for the phone call. I'll be on my way." I hung up the phone. I jogged over to the house, with my hands full. I couldn't just drop good and fresh groceries.

Two police cars had arrived at my house, already black and dim. The fire had finally stopped.

Two men came out of the cars and immediately spotted me. We walked toward each other.

"Matthew Williams, again?" One of the men, whom I knew, laughed tiredly.

"Yes. Hello, Officer Greg." I tried to make my voice sound neutral.

"Then you know the usual. Well, at least I have something in my car this time." Officer Greg continued. Officer James, the latter, handed over a file. Officer Greg wrote down a quick note and sighed before leading me toward his car.

"I brought Belgian waffles this time. Wasn't that your favorite food, or did I get you mixed up with someone else?" He waved a paper bag in front of me, once we were seated in the car.

"My favorite food is actually pancakes with maple syrup, Mr. Hart. But, thank you for your consideration." I took the bag.

"Again? Awww...I gotta stop forgetting. I know you hate being picked up by the police, but you've gotta loosen up. You know me after all. Hey, your groceries are falling."

I glanced at the pile. The car was in motion, and the groceries were tumbling. I straightened them, without giving any effort. "It's alright, Mr. Hart. And I prefer being uncomfortable. It makes me feel more normal than I am." I gave a smile.

Officer Greg chuckled, and said no more. The rest of the long car ride was silent.

* * *

It was the fifth time this week. The curse was real.

My dad, Augustus Williams, was a psychic. At least, that was what he told everyone. He was also a mercenary of some sort, and used his powers to sense others and contact the other side, or the spirit world, for money. It didn't matter what he did; as long as he had money, he was satisfied. Unfortunately for him, and for me, he was constantly employed by street gangs and anonymous business owners, to kill. My dad was good at it too. But, he wasn't above getting caught.

On the day of his capture, he was a serial killer. A paid serial killer. I was in our ratty apartment, finishing my English paper. Then, when I heard sirens, I knew that they had come for me. My father had been captured.

Usually, my father, when caught, had never had any evidence on him. He could always walk out a free man, with a bad reputation. He did this sixteen times, all with the help of his trusty spiritual friends, as he told me. The day was my birthday, and the seventeenth time. His friends had failed him.

Later, after a trial that ultimately proved him guilty, he was sentenced to death. To be honest, I didn't cry as much as I should had. I had lived between life and death for so long, barely above the poverty line, that I didn't care anymore. I was almost glad to be out of his hands, as he never ceased to terrify me. My dad wasn't abusive, but his work had changed me in a way.

The day of his death, my father was asked to say his last words, in court, as he requested. He looked the head judge dead in the eye, and spoke clearly, charismatically, the words that sealed my fate.

"I know that my time of death has finally come, but I will not die. The spirits, my friends, will avenge me. The people that I killed needed to be killed, and those who ruled against me, suppressing me, will feel my wrath. You will hold in your hand, a curse. The curse that has inflicted me ever since my birth, will be passed down. Your will all perish from my vengeance, from my son. He will kill you all. Prepare!"

He was laughing, and then passed out. My father was pulled out of the room, coughing blood. He was mad.

On that day, I was cursed, and on that day, my life jumped down from a cliff and plummeted down into the deep, turbulent oceans of misfortune.

I was the unlucky child. The spirits decreed it, and my father sealed his curse onto mine.

No one else would take me. My mother, Helena Jones, had long divorced from my late father, screaming that he was bewitched and mad, which was hypocrisy, as she was too. She was a monster, who screeched at her children like a mad hawk, and used to abuse me with her might hand. She took my brother, Alfred, instead of me, from my father, for he had blue eyes, not my strange purple ones. Oh yes, my mother thought me a monster as well.

Maybe I was, but I didn't care. I didn't even know why I was alive.

After passing my cursed self from one relative to another, it was clear that I could not be accepted by anyone. Putting me in an orphanage would be futile, as I would accidentally break all the china, or cause an earthquake to come to the city, directly below the building. The government had no idea what to do with me.

I became a special case. After many experiments, it was clear that isolating me would result in utter devastation. I could only live independently, in a neighborhood, in order for me to cause as minimal damage as possible. I was more destructive when my mood dropped, and less when I was uplifted by something. However, I could never keep one mood for long, and soon, I would have broken a water pipe and caused a water geyser in the middle of a street.

I also was visited by many ancient psychics, who determined that there was a cure for my curse. They said that I had to find it out for myself. They said that too often, and soon, they would find themselves suspended from a building by a rope around waist, dangling upside down. It was clear that I needed a constant mood, and a good environment in order to aid myself to a cure, and I didn't need a bunch of mumbling fakes to tell me that.

I hated my father for the curse, but I was also thankful. People learned to respect me, and I learned how to get what I wanted with force, instead of cowering behind doors like I used to back in middle school.

Life became more boring, but I never ceased to wonder how people wound up tangled in objects, or how accidents occur. Of course, I knew that the spirits were behind this, and that I would never succumb to them. To keep myself from becoming more of a walking nightmare than I already am, I learned to control myself through writing. Writing helped me get my emotions through, and it often help me get through my curse. Sometimes, the cracks on the wall magically sealed up, and the flowers opened a little earlier. Writing had to be my cure.

But nothing is certain yet, and I have almost arrived at the station.

"Hey, Matt. We're there. Do you need help with the groceries?" Officer Greg Hart called to me from the front of the car.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Thanks." I shook my head and gathered my groceries and the bag of waffles. We had arrived at the central police station of the city. For the third time this month. Officer Greg and Officer James were handling the load of vegetables I had bought while I carried the waffle bag. Mr. Hart and I followed Officer James into one of the conference rooms in the vast building.

An important-looking man greeted me when I walked in. At least, I guessed he was. The man looked clean-shaven, and wore a new business suit. He smiled politely as I seated in a chair opposite from him.

"Hello, Matthew Williams. I am Cory Taylor, but call me Mr. Taylor, if you will. It is a pleasure to meet you." His hand was stiff when I shook it, but I could feel a tremble.

"Hello, Mr. Taylor. It is a pleasure as well." I did not show any emotion.

"As you know, your house cannot be recovered. We will, again, be placing you somewhere else. This time, out of the state."

I nodded. He saw it and continued.

"Recently, the police have encountered another boy, your age exactly. He seems to be the exact opposite you; instead of a curse, he has a gift. His gift is fortune, good luck, brought down to him by his father, a self-established sorcerer.

"We believe he can counter your curse. After all, your curse is misfortune and unluckiness. The boy, like you, is a little fed up with his gift, and is generous enough to let you into their school. You will be living apart from him, but he will come over to your house for a two-hour session of 'union' everyday except for Sunday. We encourage you to try to keep your mood constant for as long as possible. Any damage inflicted on him will come back to you, Matthew.

"I, and the people I represent, know that you have always had trouble in school, but we promise that this one will be different, if anything else. This school is public, yes, but there are many people in here like you, with special traits that we would like to observe, and, in many cases, cure. The people here will accept you, we promise. But," Mr. Taylor leans in, "you are still responsible for your own actions, and I hope you behave yourself.

"If this does not work, we will have to relocate you, and, it may result in your death, for the sake of the country. I am sorry, Matthew, but this is how it works."

I have heard the death talk too many times to care. I was void of any emotion, as usual, as I stood up, shook his hand, and said a word of thanks. The man left the room, trembling. Before he left, he said, "You will be leaving tomorrow morning, at eight. For the time being, you will at a nearby inn. Clothes and other supplies have already been prepared for you. The family is German, and they will be very noticeable."

"And what is their last name?" I inquired.

"Beildschmidt." The man stated before leaving the room.


	2. The Opposite Perspective

AN/ Sorry of the late update (I am very, very busy... with school and other stuff). However, here is chapter number two! Reviews about my story in general, plot, characters, grammar, and ideas are greatly appreciated. I also take requests for other things! Now, please enjoy.

-Cassie

* * *

The television had just turned on when I walked inside. Of course, the screen flickered to Weird Metaphorical Resonances, my favorite show. It happened all the time. Of course, it was just the awesome me. And look, the episode has just started! Hey, this stuff is new! A new episode!

I threw down my backpack. Who cared where it went? I would just find it later with my amazing powers. Now for some real TV...

I sort of lost myself in the show, as, of course, it was the best show anyone could have asked for. But, as I sank deeper and deeper into the complex plot the show provided for me, I began to feel hungry. And my eyes also began to hurt, so I had to rub'em. Oh yeah, my pupils are red. I'll explain it later.

There was a plate of cookies on the table. There was always something on the table that I wanted to eat. Something perfect always awaited me on the piece of wood. The perfect dunking cup was also present, as everything comes toward the awesome me anyway. I really couldn't have been bothered.

The thing is, if I wanted Mom and Dad out of the house, they would be gone. If I wanted to get a perfect score on the Biology test without trying, I could. Also, if the dying plants on our windowsill started irritating Mom again, I could just want them to grow, and, guess what, they would. Winner winner. Chicken dinner. Also, I literally make other people feel better. For example, my presence brings joy to everyone around me, so you can conclude that I'm obviously perfect and gifted.

Except I'm not. I'm not perfect, but my gift is.

As I've been told, I was blessed. By my dad, because he's the reason for all my successes. You probably won't know my dad; he's the most famous person you would ever meet. He's the CEO for a booming business, CeriHexal, the microchip company. We're not rich, at least, not yet. But, you still would have heard him on international television. Does Carl Bieldschmidt sound familiar?

See, my dad has a secret identity, like all those cheesy superhero movies that made millions ten to twenty years ago. Guess what he does. He's a sorcerer. I know, everyone says that these things can never happen, but I can assure you that it is absolutely true. How do I prove this?

Me.

Dad worked for years trying to perfect his chant. He perfected the dead language called Latin, and spent twenty years gathering up a library's worth a material. And, as you can see, the work payed off. His chant was the chant of will, to elevate my poor family from a meager salary to stacks of one hundreds per day. Dad was so excited that I was born. The spell only worked on humans, and I was the perfect kid for the job.

Like every child ecstatic with something new given to them, my dad looked over some flaws. The flaws did not harm me, but it did bring down the power of the chant. My mom said that when I was born, I had blonde hair and blue eyes. Hair that matched my dad in every single way, and eyes that mirrored Mom. Yeah, the curse was the one that took them away. The flaw changed my coloring, and so I was left with white hair and blood-red eyes (told ya that I would explain them). I didn't care too much for them, but I can't reverse the chant. It's already permanent.

The other flaw was major, but it was subtle. The flaw brought down the intensity of the chant, so that I inherited good luck instead of manipulation by will. Thank god, that made my life so much easier. At least, I wouldn't be stuck with a super power like my dad. Except, his was more practical. Gee, I never get the good end of the stick.

The good thing about the spell was that it gave me good luck, and got me through life a lot easier than imagined. Obviously, I got everything I ever wanted, and those too impossible to get were made less impossible. The road to success was always wide open, not matter where I went or how hopeless I was. Of course, all of this felt perfectly normal to me. I can't understand others, because I'm not another normal person. I liked the spell, but I despised that it made me more elevated. I just wanted to be normal and face life normally. I wanted to be accepted by my friends.

Because of my spell, again, all sorts of people accepted me, as everything heeded to me, the awesomeness of perfection. They all loved me, and I loved all of them. They're my friends of course, how could we not be the best in relations and happiness? Please, we're all united, because we all like each other.

Still, something deep inside of me always surfaced and resurfaced. What if I was just lucky that they liked me, and stuck with me just for spite? What if the people I hung out with truly despised me, but despised me less because it was always their good day around me? My luck kinda goes with them. I wish the best for them, they get the best. What if they're just using me?

Still, no use thinking about that now. I gotta be awesome, and they all accept me anyway. Who cares? I' pretty sure at least one of my buds like me!

Mein gott, I'm getting cocky!

Okay, back to the story.

Anyway, my mom came home, at the wrong time. That struck me hard. My mom never came home without my will wanting her. My streak was broken. Something must have been wrong. Or, something bad must have happened, too strong against my good luck.

But, she did bring snacks, and my little brother, who came home early. I guess my luck wasn't so bad.

My little bro is interesting. He's nothing like me, and his eye and hair color matched my previous ones, the ones before the chant gone slightly awry. He's called Ludwig, after my grandfather on my dad's side. It matches him, too. My late grandfather had a strong personality, and wasn't one to crack awesome jokes, like me. My kid brother is just like him. He is way more responsible than I am, and got perfect scores and a fine reputation from hard work, unlike me. His hair is slicked back, and his eyes were piercing, when he was angry. If he wasn't younger than me, I would have been cowering under the table all the time. But, whatever. The point is, he's handsome, he's strong, he's proud, smart, and entering seventh grade right now. The best part is that he doesn't care about my powers. Lud just loves me, and that makes him awesome. Not as awesome as me, but that's alright.

My mother has beautiful sapphire eyes, but her hair is a light auburn color. She's kind, and she laughs a lot. She can give a spark of life to anyone, anywhere. Like my father, she's determined. However, unlike my father, she knows when to relax. Dad doesn't know when to stop, which is why Mom is always reprimanding him for trying too hard.

But anyway, my mom smiled and put the bag of groceries on the counter. She glanced at me. "Turn off the TV, Gilbert. I have something important to tell you."

"Ugh...Not now, Mom. I have a show that's almost done. It's almost done, I promise. Just five more minutes. Please?" I exaggerated my words, slathering on my awesome charm.

Her eyes softened, but refocused sharply. "Your luck won't work on me today, Gil. This is really important, and we don't have much time."

Her words sounded ominous. I snapped my head and turned off the TV. "Yeah, I'm listening."

"You remember that agreement you made a few months ago, regarding your gift and another child's curse?"

I nodded.

"Well, I received word that the child is coming tomorrow. It was quite abrupt, but it is mandatory, as the boy is really troubled. His papers had already been signed, and he has been enrolled in your school. "You two will be in every single class together, and will be together as long as possible.

The child himself will live in a different house, only a block away, so you two can meet and talk conveniently. You will have a mandatory two-hour session of 'union', I think that's what it's called, every day, except for Sunday."

I nodded again.

"Now Gilbert, you have to promise that you will never harm this child. Never wish for his death, and never wish for his harm. I don't know if his curse will overpower yours, or if yours will, hopefully, keep his at a calm level. The good thing is, they will remove this child if he harms you. But, the removal is death, and I hope this never comes to the poor, unfortunate child. Please, Gilbert, stay strong, and keep each other safe. I don't want you or the boy getting hurt."

My mother looked so sad, so beyond her years. I hugged her and reassured her by patting her shoulder. "Hey, I asked for this myself. I can do this. It want to make a good difference to the world, and I will. Don't worry, okay?" After all, with this gift comes a price. And it's up to the awesome me to make it up.

She looked up hopefully and sighed. "Very well, Gilbert. But, I am so worried for you. There's no other way to say it; I'm afraid of what's coming next. What will happen to you? What if you become harmed? What if-" My mom choked and hugged me harder than ever.

"Mom, mom...please, don't think about it." I slathered on my charm, my good luck. It worked. She stopped weeping and loosened her embrace. "I'll be fine. Promise." It was a promise I could not make.

She nodded. "I love you. Please, stay safe. Keep the child safe as well. We'll finish this talk when your dad gets home."

I patted her. "I love you too." I nodded.

Mom left to tend to the groceries, without saying another word. My brother, in the shadows, stepped forward and looked at me strangely. "It's happening, isn't it."

I glanced at him. "What's happening?"

"The other person. He's coming, isn't he?"

"You mean the cursed kid? Yeah, he is. You heard Mom, didn't you?"

Ludwig averted his eyes. "I don't like this situation. If it's so urgent, then this person must be dangerous. You're rash, brother. You have to think of yourself, for once."

I noted a worrisome tinge in his voice. "Oh? What's this, is my little brother worried for me?" I chuckled, which made him blush. Man, I love getting at him. Sometimes, he's so adorable.

"Yes, I am. We're all worried for you, because you're family. Like Mother, I strongly advise that you stay wary of him. Be nice to him, but do not get too close to him. For if you make a big mistake, it's all over, and-"

"OKAAAAAAAAAAAAY. I GET IT." I yelled at Ludwig. Geez, even for a caring brother, he's such a prick! Why can't he just relax like me?

Ludwig seemed mildly surprised. "Brother, I am only-"

"No, Ludwig. I've heard sixty million people tell me the exact same thing for the past four months. I am completely ready for any scenario to occur, and I am PERFECTLY (and awesomely) able to take care of myself. Please, get off my ass. I love you, but you're driving me crazy!"

I stomped away in a storm of petty anger. However, all of it dissolved when my brother mumbled. "But, Gilbert, we're all proud of you."

I whirled around. "What did you say?"

He looked back defiantly. "We're all proud of you. Our family. Your friends. We are proud to know you to be such a heroic person. Even discounting your powers, you are still selfless, and we greatly appreciate it."

I looked at him strangely. What the heck was he talking about? "Um, thanks?"

It was in that moment that he smiled slightly and gathered his books. I was left standing at the stair case, more puzzled than ever.

It was dinner, my least favorite meal of the day. Every time we ate dinner at home, I had to wash all the dishes, pans included. My dad always asked me how I did in school, and laughed as if everything were slightly off his mark. But, later, he pat me on the back, and it sort of made up for it. The only good part was when I got to poke fun at my brother. He always blushed when I mentioned a certain someone.

This dinner was obviously less hearty than usual. My father had a pained look on his face as he came back home. Mom didn't look so bright either. The dinner room was still perfumed with the scent of mouthwatering, homemade goods, but the tense and worried silence still lingered even after my mother told us a little too brightly that we may eat.

"So, Gretchen, the boy is coming tomorrow?" Dad immediately cut to the chase.

"Yes, dear. There was no delaying it anymore, as we requested. Thankfully, we do not have anything planned tomorrow. Saturday is the perfect time for the child to come." Mom replied.

"Gilbert," My father turned to me, "I know there is no turning back now, but, why did you choose to do this?"

I looked up, tired, and annoyed. My father and I have never gotten along. "Excuse me?"

Obviously, Dad wasn't in a good mood. "I am asking you, why did you choose to bring him in?"

Now, he's getting on my nerves. "Dad, you're the one who always told me to use my power for good. I am trying to solve a crisis with my superpowers. Aren't you supposed to be proud of me?"

The room got a bit stuffy. "First of all, you never had these so-called superpowers. Your gift is the product of my lifetime's work! Second of all, you know you are no match for this cursed child. If he can destroy buildings within a day of residing there, and you can't even will this conversation from happening, than how can you two ever balance each other out?"

I stood up. "However, I am the only person in this entire world who possesses power like this. THE ONLY PERSON EVER ABLE TO BE COMPATIBLE. Beside, the fate of this country is in danger. This is more important than my own life. Hey dad, do you value your country? Are all the innocent people in the United States – women, children, elderly – more important than the work of one single man with a cliché superpower?"

My mom tried to interrupt. "You two, calm down this instant-"

"Silence, please, Gretchen. This boy does not understand. You are inviting a dangerous person in our house who is going to endanger all of us! What if he kills your mother on accident? Or disables your brother for eternity? Even my magic is no match for this! And most of all, worry about yourself! What if you end up dead?"

"Oh, no, now you're being selfish! I see, you just want me to live so you can have all my good luck! Well, you put your so-called gift onto the wrong person. I am going to use my power for good, not just for the little wishes of a-"

"YOU TWO, BE QUIET!" My mom was furious. She pulled my father forcefully back into his seat. "Gilbert, I am outrage at how you speak to your father! He is the man who supports us, and you should be thankful you can even function! And Carl, I expected more from you. You are a grown man; act like one! Your reasons are useless, because, now you REALLY are acting selfish. Beside, the child can just be removed permanently. He won't be a danger-"

"Gretchen, do you still not understand? We can't remove him! His power is misfortune and death. He can kill anyone who displeases him at his will. Executioners can't even come near him, sleeping or awake. He's a monster, Gretchen, an evil monster! Do you know why the government is still tossing him around? It's because they can't do anything else!" My father sighed and put his hand to his head. "We're their last resort. And if we fail, our lives could be ruined. Gilbert, he... he..." Father covered his face with his hands, and said no more.

Mom looked at Dad and hugged him for a long, long while. I was too dumbstruck to even use my powers to make anything okay.

"The government...they never told me any of this. I thought he could just leave or something... I... Now that I think of it, I don't even know his name..." My voice just trailed off. Even my brother, who hadn't made a peep since the beginning of dinner, looked shocked. He slowly made his way out of the room.

Once my dad recovered, he pointed at a large envelope, lying on the counter, and mumbled, "In that envelope is everything you need to know about our situation. I advise that you read it carefully."

I took the envelope gingerly, and examined it. There was nothing printed or written on its surface, but I could feel the dense packet of information within the paper pouch. It felt ominous and dark.

"Set your alarm to eight, Gilbert. We are driving to the airport to pick the child up at nine. Before bedtime, prepare a sign to welcome him. Make it bright, colorful, and happy. Remember who the child is."

"And what's his name, Dad?" I put my charm into good use.

My dad looked up and barely smiled. It was working. "Good night Gilbert. I'm sorry for my outburst. And remember, I'm proud of you."

It felt a little better, knowing that I was still his son, but I felt guilty. I stopped. "The name, Dad?"

His smile vanished, but his eyes were still soft. "Matthew Williams. Go and read your packet."


End file.
